Ariadne(87)

He stood at the shore with the four older boys to wave us off. I clutched Tauropolis close as the great ship churned up the water, fearful that he would slip from my arms, but he waved his plump little fist for us both.

Dionysus’ ship was fast and smooth. It was not long before we reached Athens, though I felt it like an eternity. Phaedra must have excellent watchmen posted, for she was at the harbour waiting for me before we’d even docked.

She smiled a thin smile that did not reach her eyes. ‘Ariadne,’ she said, as I climbed down from the high sides of the ship on to the creaking jetty.

‘Phaedra!’ I hurried to greet her.

‘What brings you here so soon?’ she asked.

I drew closer to her, spoke under my breath, out of earshot of her gathered attendants. ‘I didn’t want to leave things as they were.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, you are welcome in Athens, sister,’ she said, her tone of voice suggesting rather the opposite. ‘Come. It is quite a steep climb to the palace. You may be out of practice since Knossos.’

I found myself more disconcerted than I expected by the noise and sights of the docks. I was out of practice, not just at scaling long flights of steps but at navigating a lively, bustling throng after so many years in the quiet calm of Naxos. I should have accompanied Dionysus on some of his travels. I’d let myself drift along in an idyllic dream and now I found myself abruptly in the world again, kicking against a tide that seemed to threaten to sweep me away. I was grateful that Tauropolis was firmly tied to my front.

The crowds fell away for Phaedra, of course. I stayed close in her shadow, wondering how it had come to this. As we reached the summit, she turned back to me abruptly.

‘If you have come with more sermons—’ she began.

I raised my hands. ‘I promise you, that’s not why I am here.’

She softened slightly. ‘Good. For Theseus has not returned yet and I mean to speak to Hippolytus this very afternoon.’

I felt relieved that Theseus was still away from court. I waited for a moment, then selected my words carefully. ‘How do you expect him to reply?’

She pushed her hair away from her face. ‘It is not possible to feel this way – to have this connection with someone, to know it like I do in every bone of my body – and for it not to be reciprocated. He feels it, too, I know that he must.’

I felt as though I walked across a frozen lake, such as Dionysus had described to me from one of the distant lands he had visited. Every step must be placed so delicately, lest the ice crack beneath my foot and suck me into the cold depths below.

‘I do not seek to judge, Phaedra, I swear. Only to tell you that I once felt just that way about Theseus – and he abandoned me to die.’

‘Hippolytus is not like his father.’ She paused. ‘That is why I love him.’

She was so obdurate, so stubborn in her refusal to listen. But I was glad that I was there on the very day she had chosen to declare her passion. Later, perhaps she would be inclined to come with me, when the burn of humiliation began to scald.

We went into the shade of the palace courtyard. Phaedra invited me to recline on a couch and said that she would fetch grapes and water to revive me after my journey. I loosened the ties that bound Tauropolis to me and let him stand on my lap, holding him steady. His big, dark eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

A movement near one of the ornate flanking columns caught my eye. A youth stepped forward. He was just as Phaedra had described. Tall, straight, strong and gleaming with vitality. He approached me shyly but courteously. I wondered how Theseus had begotten such a sweet-seeming son.

‘You must be Hippolytus,’ I said. ‘I am Ariadne, Phaedra’s sister.’

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘Then, really, you are my aunt.’

‘Oh . . . I suppose . . .’ I faltered, confused.

His smile wavered. I could see he was worried that he had overstepped some boundary of familiarity, but that wasn’t the problem at all. If he saw me as an aunt, he must view Phaedra as a mother. I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing fiercely that she would give up her hopeless dream.

Phaedra returned, hurrying between the columns with a platter of grapes. When she saw Hippolytus standing before me, she reared back for a moment. ‘Oh . . . I see . . . I see that you have met my sister,’ she said.

How he did not see it, I could not begin to fathom. Either he was extraordinarily naive or a consummate actor. Before my eyes, she became the thirteen-year-old girl I remembered watching Theseus triumph on the wrestling-ground in Crete; her eyes were round with awe and her fingers trembling – yes, trembling! – around the silver plate that now shook like a boat tossed on the waves.

Hippolytus may not have noticed, but I would wager that Phaedra’s servants, attendants and hangers-on would have done. I would be surprised if she were not the subject of palace gossip once more.

‘Are you going to the stables?’ she fluttered.

He nodded.

‘I will be there myself, later on,’ she replied. Her face had flushed to the very roots of her golden hair.

‘Goodbye,’ he said, apparently still oblivious. He nodded his head to me. ‘Goodbye, Aunt Ariadne.’

The softness of her demeanour snapped back immediately to the brittle coolness she had shown me the moment he left. Her glare dared me to say anything.